Playing Pretend
by VoxNexus
Summary: It hurts being in love with a man that marginalizes you and it hurts even more when his mistreatment doesn't deter you. Mike figures this out the hard way and knows that he'll never be able to move on unless he confronts Harvey about it. An experimental piece. Marvey


**_Playing Pretend_**

Mike needed to tell Harvey before his words tumbled out of his mouth and onto the desk between them with the eloquence of a man clawing out and up for redemption. He needed to slough off the layers of guilt he had been emotionally donning for the past few weeks. He had to share with Harvey his rage, his frustration, how he sometimes thought that things could work out and how he'd want to smother himself to death as he wept into his pillow for thinking that way. He felt pathetic, he _was_ pathetic…but he wouldn't have Harvey holding onto his excuses and lies and bullshit anymore. He had to get it out, it was relevant to his survival, it was a _necessity _in securing his fluxing sanity. He just wasn't sure how, when or where, but he knew that he'd eventually have to throw himself under the bus. He knew that eventually he'd have to pull the trigger, the gun was already loaded, the hammer cocked back and the bullet impatiently waiting for its ascent.

_3…2…1…Take off…_

Hopefully when he did tell Harvey he _would _shoot him until he matched the ugly red carpet in his old apartment. He hoped Harvey would choke him to death while he tried to muster up a few 'sorry's' in-between his gritted teeth. He hoped to every imagined god, goddess and living, breathing thing that was even vaguely sentient that Harvey would beat him to an unrecognizable pulp…beat him until his mouth was so numb it felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls, until blood ran down the stupid fucking briefs he never _fucking_ finished. He just couldn't play this game anymore. He couldn't play_ Harvey's_ game anymore.

Harvey was impeccable, timeless…indisputable power mounted on a pedestal he created for himself. Mike never minded standing in the chill of his shadow. Most of the time, he liked it. Seeing Harvey bask and soak in every flirtatious compliment, every smoldering stare and the unrestrained adoration of those around him, was a just reward for a loyal dog. Mike was only there to watch and learn, to smile and nod, to fluff the cushions and massage Harvey shoulders when he got too tense. And he didn't mind it one bit, because Harvey's pleasures extended to him without inhibition.

A happy Harvey bantered, but did so honestly. A euphoric Harvey would drop the cavalier witticisms and supercilious snark for something that could almost be labeled chivalrous. You get Harvey in the right spot, at the right time, in the right place; the man could ooze sex while at the same time intimidate you. Harvey Specter was a class act and as much as Mike had wanted to noose his feelings and leave them out to wither and die, they grew stronger with time. Harvey's constant condescension and rejection, it didn't drive him off as it should and Mike _knew _it wasn't healthy, he knew every time Harvey would openly humiliate him that he should have been repulsed. He shouldn't have found it as attractive as he did…the more Harvey pushed him back, the more he felt his emotions being reeled in, being pulled into a place he knew would be primed with heartache and pain.

He wanted to hate Harvey; he wanted Harvey to hurt him so badly he couldn't look back anymore. But what would it take? He could testify to Harvey's breach of their monogamous vows, his toxic "relationships" with both men and women and there was Harvey's need to make every second of his life clouded with luxury; an avarice affair. The greatest closer Manhattan's ever birthed always wanted more…more cars, more expensive watches to match his already expensive suits…Mike hadn't fully comprehended the extent of Harvey's wealth until one day he wrote Mike a check crowded with six big, fat inviting zeroes.

"I can't take this," Mike insisted, shaking his head and handing it back.

Harvey looked down at Mike with an air of condescension. It was then Mike realized he'd broken the unwritten rule of rejecting Harvey during a moment of unprecedented generosity.

"Yes you can and you will."

And as always, the Wall Street maverick won the war and Mike turned tail and accepted what was handed to him. He forced down a sigh, sometimes it really felt like he didn't have a choice, Harvey was so blatantly insistent that seeing him shy away from his usual detached loftiness was as awkward as watching a fish out of water. Politeness was clearly not his forte and as he'd probably tell Mike, if it's not compulsory for the job, it doesn't matter. Winning cases, now _that's _what mattered. Pleasing Harvey was equally as significant. Once he was a "Good boy" and trotted alongside Harvey with unquestioning loyalty, he'd be fine.

But as he predicated, being the "pup," the pretty boy who'd sacrifice countless hours of sleep to pour his energy into proofing briefs, _just_ so he could cling onto the quick appreciative mutterings and smiles of approval, just so he could catch that iconic glint of satisfaction in Harvey's eyes, wasn't good enough. He wanted more than just pats on the back, shoulder squeezes and knowing nods. He needed Harvey in a way he knew would be disastrous for him, Harvey on the other hand, was as emotionally involved as an automaton.

"I want this done by tonight," Harvey handed Mike a folder of what they both knew was enough documentation to keep Mike busy for two nights. But Harvey liked throwing challenges at Mike with due dates so inane and absurd that at one point, even Jessica criticized him. However, Mike had never disappointed Harvey, he couldn't disappoint Harvey. He felt as if it was in his genes to please Harvey, it was a powerful form of compulsion that went beyond the call of duty, that went beyond a workplace relationship.

Mike would ensure that Harvey would never regret the day he lied for him, risked his own job for him and hired him as his associate. Mike would comb through every grimy, wretched nook to find what Harvey wanted and they both knew this. This of course, being another reason why Mike never told Harvey that he was giving him too much work to do. After all, winning is what mattered most to Harvey and whatever Harvey's priorities were, were Mike's also.

But that was then, that was one Mike was so blind by his obsession he severed any ties with his childhood friend just so Harvey wouldn't cut the bond himself. _Now, _Mike wanted more than to just be the attack dog's scapegoat, he needed Harvey to hear every pain staked, stammered, anguish-ridden word that would pour out of his mouth after work that night. He'd do it, he didn't care if Harvey told him to "Shut up," or that he "didn't want to hear it," he'd tell him until his throat felt dry and his eyes burned. Before he left, he needed Harvey to know he loved him. Him and his godforsaken good looks and sickening ego and then Harvey could say whatever he wanted afterwards. Mike would then convince himself he didn't care and convince himself that he hated Harvey more than he wanted him. Maybe it would even be easier to do if Harvey didn't say anything at all and allowed the silence in the room to weigh down on Mike with pensive embarrassment.

Mike began shaking his knee out of sheer anxiousness as Harvey finished reviewing the briefs that had been handed to him about 5 minutes ago. Mike preoccupied his mind by following the movements of the pen Harvey had unconscientiously rested on his lower lip as he flipped through the papers he held up in front of him. He then silently put them back down on the desk and turned to face Mike.

"Great as always," he commented before pushing his chair back. "You want anything?" Harvey asked as he stood up to head over to a cabinet leaned against a nearby wall.

"I'd like to talk to you about something…" Mike nearly winced at how meek he sounded. Harvey didn't react to his uncharacteristic tone and sat back down in his chair, his face an perfectly stoic, like a sculpture of a general.

Mike took a sharp inhale and decided then and there to let loose the reigns of his emotions and say what he needed to say before the small bit of bravado he had conjured for how many weeks slipped from him.

"I love you Harvey Specter. I love you enough that I'd lie for you, cheat for you…maybe not kill for you-," the edge of Harvey's lips twitched up momentarily at this, "-but I'd pretty much do anything for you," Harvey's eyes gleamed for a moment, as if to say: _Yeah, I know. _Mike continued: "Being beside you was once enough for me. Being in your presence made me happy…but the more time I spent with you, the harder I fell for you…and taking orders, being the perfect, compliant colleague you wanted me to be to make you happy, wasn't enough to continue making _me_ happy. I wanted more Harvey…." Mike closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his strength before looking back up again. "A part of me wishes I could hate you. Hate you for making fun of me, for tearing me down just to build me back up again. Hate you for continuously reminding me that I can't have you but that so many other people have….It made me feel physically sick sometimes…but it wasn't enough to stop me from loving you…" Mike gulped, "I know, I know. It's stupid really…but I needed to say this. I just need to know that at the end of the day, I at least got my feelings out for you to hear."

Mike clasped his hands together, suddenly realizing how sweaty they were, he rubbed them on his jeans and suddenly felt very hot as Harvey's glare borrowed into him. The man's chin had been resting on his hands as he listened to Mike vent, now he leaned back and contemplated, measuring his words before dousing Mike with them.

"It's good you're finally able to get that out of your system," he paused, holding onto the power he had over Mike at that moment. "But there's not much I can do for you Mike. If you think working for me is going to be too difficult from this point on feel free to hand in your papers tomorrow and pack your things. Or if you still want to work at Pearson Hardman, talk to Louis…he's wanted you working for him for quite sometime now."

Mike felt like the floor beneath him was about to collapse. "That's it! No '_I'm sorry I made you feel that way, '_ no, _'You're right, I didn't give you as much credit as you deserved,' _no, _'I'm sorry for continuously humiliating you…'_ Fuck you Harvey! Fuck you, fuck Louis, fuck Pearson Hardman. I'm done with all of this." Mike stood up and hurried to the door. He could feel his control completely slipping as the brim of his eyes burned with an all too familiar heat. He had to get out of there…he wasn't going to give Harvey the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

"Who do you plan to go back too…_Trevor?"_ Harvey's voice rung with an amount of amused mockery so putrid that it felt like shards of glass had just been pushed into Mike's chest. Addressing Mike's pain like it was a business transaction of minute importance wasn't good enough…no, he had to tear open wounds only he knew about.

"Trevor and I are no longer friends…you know this," _It was even your idea to begin with. _Mike pushed his feet into his shoes, yanked open the door and slammed it shut with such force that he could hear it rattle against the doorframe.

The sudden silence that befell Harvey was guilt ridden; he could taste it in the air. He let out an exasperated sigh and picked up the folder of briefings on his desk as he got up to go to the master bedroom before retreating to the shower. He'd allow the loud rumble of the water to drown out the voices in his head telling him he had hurt Mike beyond repair. He didn't want to feel what he was feeling then…regret. He scoffed. A Specter never had any regrets. They were tacticians-, strategist and the overseers of their work; they carried out plans with ruthless finesse and stomped out any perceived threats before they morphed into real ones. And they did all this with robust, remorseless gusto.

So why did Harvey suddenly feel engulfed with pangs of guilt?

He shook the thought off. He was overreacting, getting in over his head…Mike would come around and realize how stubbornly immature he was being. He'd eventually come back to Harvey, he always did and nothing would ever change that.


End file.
